"Hellooooo..." he replies enthusiastically. He is a few drinks into the evening and buoyant it seems, not that he's ever flat or overly tethered to Earth. "You didn't leave a message last night," he says matter of factly. Oh, he caught me I think.
"Uhm, yeah," and I just decide to say what I'm thinking because no matter how I might want to look and be cool I'm a say-it-as-I-see-it type of person which is usually uncool. "See I just assumed... well. I mean, I figured if you saw that I called that you'd know I called and that didn't seem to warrant a voicemail well because... you didn't answer I just assumed you didn't' want to talk." I assumed you weren't interested is what I was thinking. Fuck I hate this fucking insecurity that runs my life.
"I know what you mean. I've been going through the same thing," he offers. What? Was not expecting that but proceed as if it's the most normal thing in the world that he would have insecurities. "Yeah, it's like part of me wants to see this further but then I'm like what if she doesn't like me and it's just like ARGH. Anyway, no I heard my phone ring last night but I was already in bed and I just figured I'd call whoever back today but you didn't leave a message, so I don't know."
"Funny, and I just assumed you knew it was me and were doing that guy-thing. Then, because I was so nervous and twitchy that you were doing that guy-thing I just deleted you from my contacts because it was easier to manage what I figured was rejection."
"Defense mechanism," he says. And after a considerable pause, "We're sleeve people you and I."
"Sleeve people? What does that mean?"
"It means we wear our hearts on our sleeves," he says.
"Pretty much," I reply as my limo winds its way up through airport traffic to deliver me to Terminal C for my direct flight back to Austin on the formerly-known Continental now WE-SUCK United Airlines. "Listen, I have to go through security but I'd love to talk more if that works."
"Okay, call me back," he cheerfully says.
And I endure the second of a twice-a-week-exposure-to-God-only-knows-what-kind-of-radiation-for-the-sake-of-national-security screening before making my way to gate 82. Thirty-foot stretches of moving walk-ways transport me to the farthest tip of the airport and I find my phone to call back my Mr R. "Okay, I'm at my gate with minutes to spare."
"Good, I'm just getting ready for poker. I'm feeling lucky," he tells me. Hmm, lucky. Interesting choice of words considering the tingling sensation building down, down... down there.
"Well, I hope you win big," I offer back. Funny, doubt from last night evaporates as we talk and I wonder, is it that simple? Does it really only take hearing the voice of another that chips away at the story I concocted in my head that someone just 'didn't like me'? Doubt wanes and his voice - warm and deliciously masculine - waxes my desire. I realize how much I just really want to spend the night with him and without hesitation I say as much, "so I really want you to come with me to the yoga party Saturday."
"Okay."
"And, I want to spend the night with you."
"Okay."
"I mean like all night. I want to have sex with you and I'm going to spend the night with you and I'm not going to scurry off like some little piece of ass in the middle of the night... I'm just saying."
"Well, it's not like you're a prostitute." I must gasp slightly or something. "No, I mean... I wouldn't expect you to leave. No, I want you to say."
"Okay, good well that's what I'm going to do," I reply. Then nervously I keep talking, "and I'm going to bring an overnight bag and everything so don't freak out and think I'm moving in because I'm not I'm just going to need to bring stuff because I'm taking my mom to the airport before I come over and you're on that side of town and it just doesn't make sense to come ALL THE WAY back north when you're down there and then we'll go to the party which is sort of a dressy event..."
"I got it. It's all good. I'll see you... what time?"
"Five-ish?"
"Five-ish," he repeats.
"Five-ish it is," I conclude. "See you Saturday."
"Can't wait."
~~~~~~~~~~~
No one answers the door. The knob turns and his front door opens. I look up and he steps out from what I assume is his room upstairs. Brushing his teeth he mumbles between fluoride bubbles, "Come on in. Make yourself at home." I rest my bag on a barstool mildly reminiscent of something from the Jetsons. I lay my clothing bag over the banister and a few minutes later he comes downstairs in charcoal dress pants and a beige sweater looking absolutely yummy.
He walks right up to me and greets me with a kiss. "Do you want to take your stuff upstairs?"
"Sure," I answer and make my way to the second floor behind him. His house is very nice, with concrete floors stained in cinnamon brown and trimmed in espresso. The carpet is a comfy, modern shag going up the stairs, in the media room and along the hallway. The floor in his room is a beautifully stained dark wood. Why in the world I am so observant of the floor I have no idea, but I am, so here we are.
Back downstairs I excuse myself to the bathroom and notice the shower curtain with its eclectic shower-curtain hooks. There's probably a fancier name for them but I go completely blank and can only observe that they're pretty fancy for a guy, but thankfully not in a metro-gay way.
"What do you think of my house?" he asks as I return to the living room. Oh, was I supposed to say something?
"It's really nice," I tell him. "I like your shower curtain." He seems to be like me, wanting acknowledgment. We sit on the couch near the fireplace and its burning fire.
"Good seeing you," he says looking intently into my eyes. His green eyes sparkle in the glow of the fire.
"You too." Moments pass and before long it's time to dress for the party. I slip into my sexy, tuxedo black dress with its satin, criss-cross ribbing down the sides. I step into my double-platform shoes knowing they'll make me stand 6'1". I feel extremely sexy in them, especially knowing that he was more than open to me dressing up in them.
We leave for the party, Gotye's "Somebody That I Used to Know" playing on the stereo. As excited as I am to celebrate the end of Pure Bikram's 60-Day Yoga Challenge, I really just want to rush home to be alone with R. We mingle with fellow yoga students and then R wanders over to visit with the vendors at their booths. I make small talk with some of the women I've only just recently met, not quite befriended. An hour passes and after collecting my free t-shirt I express my desire in leaving.
"Are you sure?" he asks.
"Yes, very," I say most assuredly. Never in my life have I felt so in command, so sure in expressing my desire. I have zero idea what to expect on the other side of tonight. I want only to let go, to release, to connect. I want to make love I want to have sex... I want to fuck as hard as possible. And never in my life have I wanted THAT without judging myself for wanting it.
"Okay, let's go." We walk to my sweet German ride, taking our seats, backing up and cranking the stereo to "Ass Back Home" by Gym Class Heroes while we make our way back south.
Once home he mixes two tall Tito Vodkas with Sobe Water which we consume patiently as he stokes the fire back up to a roar in the fireplace. We make small talk and he lifts my feet and places them in his lap as he sits across from me. He massages my toes back to position from their precarious 4-inch suspension in the double-platforms. "Want to go upstairs?" he asks. I nod in agreement and together we make our way hand in hand. He returns back downstairs for something and I stand nervously, unsure what to do next. Minutes pass and he returns to the room with candles, placing them strategically around the room.
Stepping behind me he brings his right hand up to the top of my dress where it comes to rest on the chrome zipper, my dress' only accoutrement. "Are you ready?" he asks. Wide-eyed with anticipation I nod positively once more. Slowly, he unzips me out of the dress and I stand there before him naked, hungry, exposed. So many different thoughts swirling through my head. He turns me to face him and he removes his sweater revealing finely etched deltoids, biceps and pectoral muscles. His eyes, green with desire, stare at me intently.
He unbuttons his slacks and they fall casually to the floor. Pushing me back on his bed I look down to see his substantially hard cock. It is so deliciously pointed in my direction, perfect in length and more importantly in width. I slowly exhale in anticipation of him being inside of me. Spreading my legs apart he starts a trail of kisses along my left inner thigh, eventually resting his mouth on my clitoris. Circling it with his tongue, he sucks delicately as I watch from the center of the bed.
R pulls me closer to the side of the bed and he licks harder. I arch to bring myself closer to the edge and he moves his middle fingers inside of me, locating the sweetest of spots which he pushes at firmly, aggressively for more minutes than I can stand.
"Now," I beg and he rises, his mouth wet, his eyes hungry. I hold his gaze as he positions his hips above mine. He grabs his cock and brings it to meet me where I want it most. I look at him earnestly and purposely hesitating he holds back.
Moments seem to pass and then finally, forcefully he shoves his cock inside of me. Gasping, I reach to touch his arms, to grab his waist, his finely carved ass. Back and forth, in and out he moves rhythmically. Feeling lighter than I can remember, I receive him and we move together for half an hour before coming. He falls on top of me and I plant kisses on his head. Moments pass and we move fully on the bed to lay beside one another, falling asleep side by side.
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